FOR CHILDREN. 295

There woman s voice flows forth in song,
Or childish taie is told;

Or lips move tunefully along

Some glorious page of old.

The blessed Homes of England !

How softly on their bowers

Is laid the holy quietness

That breathes from Sabbath hours!
Solemn, yet sweet, the church bell’s chime
Floats through their woods at morn;

All other sounds, in that still time,

Of breeze and leaf are born.

The cottage Homes of England !

By thousands on her plains,

They are smiling o’er the silvery brooks,
And round the hamlet-fanes.

Through glowing orchards forth they peep,
Each from its nook of leaves;

And fearless there the lowly sleep,

As the bird beneath their eaves.

The free, fair Homes of England !
Long, long in hut and hall,

May hearts of native proof be reared
To guard each hallowed wall!

And green for ever be the groves,

And bright the flowery sod,

Where first the child's glad spirit loves
Its country and its God !

Mrs. Hemans.

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